Love is Crippled
by schokolade
Summary: She’s not one prone to make mistakes. She’s too careful, too controlled, too vigilant to let herself fall prey to human’s innate inclination to fallacy but this is House… that changes everything.' HouseCuddy.


**A/N:** No, I have not abandoned the ship of House and Cuddy. I still firmly believe they are perfect together but after watching the whole of season one (which I finally own but has left me broke) I can't help but be fascinated by the House/Wilson/Cuddy dynamic. I wouldn't be surprised if Cuddy/Wilson connected through all their House dramas. Don't worry though it's still House/Cuddy (all the way) just a bit of Wilson thrown in. **Extra: **This is reposted as ScarlettScribble kindly noticed some errors so I am forever grateful to her! Go checks out her awesome stories as well! If anyone else notices anything, please let me know and I'll rectify it immediately.

-------------

**LOVE IS CRIPPLED**

-------------

**CHAPTER 1: Mistakes**

-------------

She just lies there, still and silent, staring at the ceiling.

Not a word has passed between them since they finished with panted breath and sweaty limbs. No comment about what happened, no comment about why they're doing this, no awkward small talk. Just silence.

She can hear him though, shuffling beside her as he slowly levers himself off the bed, limping slowly across the room to retrieve his jacket that had been carelessly thrown off just an hour ago. She doesn't look over; her eyes don't even flicker toward his direction. She just stares at the ceiling, but she can hear him rustle for the bottle and she can hear him snap the lid open and she can hear him swallow the pills with such ease that only comes from years of practise.

She hears all this but she doesn't look, because looking would mean that she's concerned, that she cares, that this is more than it is.

So she stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, like she always does. She spends around ten minutes studying it; it's the time between when her erratic breath slows down to a steady breathing to the time she leaves, surreptitiously and quietly. The ceiling is a sight that she is regrettably becoming familiar with. It's a strange colour, not quite white, not quite cream, beige or brown. She can't find a word to describe it.

Just like this, she thinks. It's indescribable but it is something she is also regrettably becoming familiar with.

She contemplates the situation.

When did she start sleeping with House?

House of all people, she thinks incredulously. But then she considers it, his name echoing in the dark recesses of her mind, and it doesn't seem so unbelievable after all. There aren't many men that she is intimate with; intimate enough for something like this. She thinks about the men she interacts with on a daily basis and she can only produce two: House and Wilson. House because he causes so much trouble and mischief within the hospital that she is forced to keep a tight reign on him. But in truth, it is also because she is worried about him and that brings her to Wilson; House's closest friend and a fellow worrier. Together they discuss House's well-being, his pain management, his addiction. They only ever talk about House. It's the first time she's ever really thought about it. House is really the basis of her and Wilson's friendship.

What does that mean, she questions but she isn't quite in the state to delve into the foundation of the few friendships she has.

So, she concludes, House isn't such an shocking option for this …thing they had. Actually, he's the obvious option.

This thing… it seemed to start long ago. A distant and foggy memory lost in the haze of her mind but maybe that's because she's feeling guilty or she's feeling good or something completely different. She doesn't really want to analyse it.

In actuality, it started mere weeks ago.

It had been an accident of course. These things always were. It was typical: a bar, lots of drinking, flirting, a taxi ride together and a night of passion.

It was a mistake.

She's not one prone to make mistakes. She's too careful, too controlled, too vigilant to let herself fall prey to human's innate inclination to fallacy but this is House… that changes everything.

It was meant to be just a one-night stand.

But, he changed everything when he arrived at her doorstep exactly a week after that night. She remembered it was late, midnightish and he had knocked (he knew where the spare key and she had wondered why he didn't just barge in as she expected him too). She had checked the keyhole and when she saw it was him, she immediately flung open the door, worried and anxious about his leg. He hadn't answered any of her questions, just looked at her intensely, before capturing her in a deep kiss. The sensible thing would have been to stop him; to tell him that she wasn't interested, that last time had been a mistake and a one-time thing only and that he should go home. That's what she should have done but it's not what she did.

She couldn't stop him because the moment his lips had touched hers, the moment when his hands had gently caressed her face and the moment when she felt his body pressed up against her she could feel something change. Something primal was unleashed within her and she liked that feeling. She craved that feeling. It was a feelings that she hadn't felt in too long and it was a feeling that only the touch of somebody else could elicit.

So, she finds herself making the same mistake over and over again.

The first time it was okay, she had reasoned with herself. She was allowed the odd mistake or a momentary lapse of judgement. She just had to learn from it. But what happens when you can't help but make the same mistake again, because it's exactly what she's doing.

There are no excuses this time. Or the time before this. Or the time before that.

No drinks to blame that addle ones senses and judgment.

She never thought she'd be that woman, the sort of woman who had illicit affairs with co-workers because they couldn't have a proper normal relationship. The sort of woman who snuck around at night, like she had something to hide, to meet her lover in clandestine visits for a night of nothing more than a physical fling. She never thought she'd be that women but here she is, lying on the bed, week after week, in silence.

She remembers when she was in high school. She had had a few boyfriends, nothing noteworthy, nothing lasting. There were times when she felt ugly, unwanted, undesirable but she had shook those thoughts out. She had told herself that she had to concentrate on schoolwork if she wanted to be the best, to be successful, to be a doctor. She had reprimanded herself for even thinking such ridiculous thoughts because she believed that she would find that special significant other when the time was right, when she was older, when she was successful. Decades later, she is successful; first woman, second youngest Dean of Medicine but she never found that significant other.

This is what it had come too.

Having a casual meaningless affair… with House.

But she can't admit that she's that women. That would mean that she is weak, that she isn't in control, that her life is lacking.

She tells herself that she is in control; that she can stop at anytime. That she can fall as easily out of this as she fell in. She tells herself the only reason she is continuing this is because it's convenient; just an easy outlet for her sexual needs, just a chance for a connection with a person. Even if it's only for a moment. Even if it is just physical.

Because that's all it is. Physical. Nothing more. They are just sex buddies.

Neither questions it.

They both just accept it.

She looks at him for the first time and is surprised that he's looking at her. How long had he been staring?

"I better go," she says softly.

He doesn't say anything, just stares at her intently with those intense blue eyes. She can't tell what he's thinking. She never can. But she feels his eyes delving into her soul, hearing every thought she has.

She slowly gets up, wrapping the sheet around her which is ridiculous because he's seen her naked, numerous times. However, she feels self-conscious now because they have both returned to reality. They're no longer lost in a moment of pure passion.

She quickly dresses; back toward him but she can still feel his eyes boring into her. She's silently cursing this whole situation, vowing she'll never do this again, but knowing at the same time that she will. She'll keep coming back for more or if she won't, he will.

She quickly scans the room for any lost or misplaced items. Nothing. As soon as she goes, there will be nothing to remind him that she has ever been here.

She stands at the entrance of his bedroom, looking at him. He's not looking at her anymore. He's staring at the bed and her gaze soon follows his. The sheets are dishevelled, the pillows nowhere to be seen, flung away in passion. It's where they had both been a mere hour ago, panting and screaming, the world just focused on them two, everything else lost. Already that seems so long ago…now just a fleeting blurry memory of another world. Of two completely different people, who for a moment found somebody who understood them.

"Well I think I've got everything," she says, just a hint of nervousness tinged on the tone. "I'll just let myself out."

He looks at her and this time she stares back. Blue eyes connect with blue and the air is fraught with tension. Of things left unsaid. She's struggling for something to say to diffuse it, and wishing that he would make one of his sarcastic jabs about their 'affair' or her after-sex glow which she can laugh at or feign anger at, but he doesn't. Tonight isn't mocking, sarcastic House, tonight is something completely different. She hasn't left yet and she feels the room tightening with tension by every passing second she stays. She's still standing at the doorway and she knows she should leave but she stays, waiting for something… she has no idea of what.

"See you tomorrow," he finally says.

They never mention names; always casually omitting the need for it, in the few times, they do speak to each other. Saying names would mean it was personal but she thinks; last names aren't exactly equivalent to intimacy. She doesn't say what she's thinking though, she just nods her head in acknowledgement and slowly turns around, walks down the hallway, unlocks the door and then out of his house. But she knows she'll come back soon.

It's around two in the morning and she has to wake up in four more hours. It's tiring, it's inconvenient, it's stupid but she still does it anyway. She's keep revisiting her mistakes. She drives slowly home, the roads deserted at this time of the night or if anyone passes, she thinks, they must be out for the same reason she is.

A stillness in the air descends and it should calm her, but it doesn't because his last statement is ringing in her ears.

"See you tomorrow."

She will see him tomorrow. But tomorrow won't be as a meaningless sex buddy but as something else entirely. His boss. His superior. As the frustrated and resigned person who has the unfortunate chance to have to deal with his insane and normally illegal medical procedures. They will converse in their usual sarcastic banter and they will put on appearances, like there is nothing _serious_ or _actual_ going on between them. Everybody suspects; thanks to House and his constant innuendos but nobody knows for sure. Everybody is too uncertain and unsure to hazard a guess or to even ask. She's glad though.

She's shakes her head in disbelief. She'd never thought that those rumours would ever be true. She thought that she would never let that happen.

She laughs and it reverberates loudly in the noiseless night. It's a laugh devoid of mirth though; it's a laugh that's full of tension and anxiety. It's the laugh of somebody who has lost control, but she doesn't know that yet.

She will see him tomorrow.

But it will be a different world when Lisa Cuddy sees Gregory House again.

-------------

**A/N: **So what did you think? Very different from my other story. I know I shouldn't be starting another story when I'm not even close to finishing the other but this plot bunny just would not die, so I had to write it! Review and tell me what you think!

-schokolade


End file.
